Happy New Year & Tale of a Fellow 10

This is wishing everyone a very happy New Year ahead. May all our hearts’ wishes be granted and may we enjoy more of God’s grace and mercies in the coming year.

Thank you for sticking with me in 2013. I will try to do better in 2014. Thanks and God bless.

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So here is the concluding part of Izy’s story- Tale of a fellow 10

 

 

It was a good thing that Izy had told his boss about his prison experience when he was first employed. The policemen recognised him and he immediately became a suspect; just because he had been to jail before. They began to ask him many questions like where he went after he was released, how he came about the job he was doing presently, where he knew the people who had come to rob, and so on.

Izy was so angry that he did not know when he voiced out, “You people want to arrest me for a crime I did not commit again? Especially when the one you should arrest is right here in this place.”

They were all quiet.

“In fact, today ends my running away or getting into trouble for no reason. It is Uncle that you should be asking all those questions and not me.”

Izy then narrated everything to Mr Fred, starting from the hidden gold in the school to the set up by his partner which led to the theft in the house. Mr Fred affirmed that there was no day his brother came to visit that something would not go missing in the house.

Uncle was however still dumbstruck in disbelief of how he was so smoothly set up. He did not really care that there was a robbery, but that he of all people could have been used as bait so easily. He did not argue or try to justify himself when Izy was talking; there was no point.

Somehow, Izy was saved by Mr Fred who testified that he was a changed boy and a good one at that. And since there was no evidence against him, he was left alone while Uncle was arrested.

Everything went from good to better for Izy after that. He started going to school, courtesy of Mr Fred who took him in as an adopted son.

Iya Zacchaeus was very happy about the new development and her husband had no choice but to accept and learn to like Izy. Not long after he surrendered his hatred for the boy did his wife tell him she was pregnant.

Presently Izy is happy and is looking forward to attend cross over service tonight. He would never forget that of last year.

“Goodbye to an eventful 2013,” Izy shouted.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas to everyone. I am sorry for the long break. I’ll get back soon. Happy new year in advance.
Thank you all for making me feel loved and encouraging me through your comments, mails and tweets. I love you too and the world will keep celebrating with you.
Thank you.

White proposal {AGAIN!}

Hello good people. I know you all will be expecting the next episode of Tale of a fellow. Sorry I will not be posting that today, till next Sunday. Today I am giving new readers the opportunity to read my very first post on this blog. I hope you enjoy. And please drop your comments- they encourage me. Thank you.

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Image culled from Google

So what?

They say I’m proud and a big snob… who cares? I am not bothered so I don’t expect anyone to be bothered on my behalf.
I know that most people are only jealous of my qualification, financial status and my spotless beautiful self.

I turned twenty-seven last month and I have been promoted twice in the last five years of work. I am well educated and properly qualified for the two promotions as I came in with my masters degree from a prestigious University in Spain and have done so many professional courses alongside.

Whatever! I am less concerned at what my colleagues, juniors, seniors and even neighbours say about me. I’m just protecting my prestige and dignity.

Ooops! It’s time.

I’m meeting Vincent tonight at the hang-out place of my dreams- Chinese restaurant!

I’m so excited. I’m even almost shy because its happening today. Damn! My life is going to change after tonight.

When I was telling him the other day that I would like to be proposed to in my dream hang-out place, I thought he was not listening. I kept on talking anyway-I wanted that place because I usually get pissed at the way Nigerians react when a man asks a woman to marry him in the public. But in the gathering of a majority of foreigners,it would be applauded better. I also told him I would like him to be dressed in white suit. Its just my idea of a divine proposal. I want everything to be almost perfect.

A car honked outside my beautiful house. That very familiar sound. Vincent, my future husband.

I went out to meet him all dressed up and looking fine (as always!). He came out to open the door for me, which he rarely did and then I saw him looking tall and handsome in his pure white suit. He even wore a white shoe to match-well I don’t mind that. He was all-white and divinely looking, way better than how I imagined.

He hugged me and held the door open for me as I went in.He joined me almost immediately on his side of the car.
He smiled at me as he started the car. He asked how my day was and I said it was fine, no need for unnecessary stories that might spoil the night. He asked what I had eaten and when last I ate.

“I ate last at work during lunch break. Don’t worry about food dear, excitement is filling me already”

We journeyed in silence for a while then I thought it wise to remind him of my preference in precious stones.

“Vincent dear?”

“Hmm?”

I smiled widely. “You know I like diamonds a lot,especially large ones”.

He looked at me puzzled. “Why would you bring that up now?”, he asked.

What?! Hope it was not a gold or silver ring he got for me?

“I’m just saying”, I said, trying hard for my smile to look genuine enough.

We were both quiet for the rest of the drive.We got there and he gentlemanly came to open the door for me and we walked in hand in hand. I was a bit disappointed that he hadn’t made a special reservation for this special occasion, but all the same I liked the attention we got as we entered.

While waiting for our orders I began sipping the wine brought for us. I was not going to drink too much so I could really savour the moments and be able to remember them well.

Vincent looked at me – I could not read the expression his face carried and I was going to say something when he spoke.

“You did not even bother to ask how my day went, or how the burial went?”

With mouth agape and brain immediately searching about any burial information, I put the glass of wine on the table, buying time.
Gladly, our order came in then, but with all the bought time I still could not recall him telling me about any burial and I sure have a sharp memory.

The waiter muttered something and Vincent replied, smiling sincerely.

Oh dear! Does it by chance have anything to do with my ring? Mehn! I have to eat carefully so I don’t damage the ring if its in the food.

The waiter left, leaving me staring at the food as if looking for the ring.

“Don’t you want it?”, Vincent asked.

“Oh I do!”, I said rather too loud.

“Then eat.”

I took the chopsticks in my right hand and said, “I am so sorry my love. How was your day at work?”

He chuckled. “Work? I did not go to work darling. I told you.”

Did he really? Well I couldn’t remember. It had to be because of the burial he did not go. But who died?

“Yeah, my bad. So how was the burial?”

“It was like their typical burial, the body was already cremated and put in an urn.”

I lost my appetite then. It’s not like I was enjoying the food anyway, plus it did not seem like there was a ring in there.

“Cremated? Why?”, I asked.

“Sweetheart don’t you watch Bollywood? They cremate their dead in India.”

I was confused. “India?”

He smiled and said, “So you’ve forgotten I said my boss lost his wife? My boss- the Indian boss. The one you like.”

I was lost.

“I was telling you the other day but you were blabbing about how long its been since we both went out.”

What?! Indian? Burial? WHITE!!!

White was their mourning colour, wasn’t it?

“Sweetheart, you know I love you.”, Vincent was saying.

Oh! Sweet relief!!

Finally the proposal. Enough with the dead.

He continued, “But you really have to change your attitude towards this relationship if you ever want us to work.”

What was he talking about? Work where? Were we not here on the “working” issue? He proposing to me here in Chinese res…
I was cut short in my thoughts when I saw him tilt a bit to remove something from his trousers’ pocket.

The ring. That must be the ring. It had to be.

He brought his hand out of his pocket and-

Oh my gosh!!!

He handed the case over to me. It was a beautiful black case with ‘FOR HER’ written in glowing gold letters.

My heart was racing. I took it, waiting for him to say the magic word, but he did not. Why was he not asking me the ultimate question? Yes he was a naturally shy fellow, but in this case? Come on!

Okay. Maybe I should help him. I know he badly wants to marry me, plus his mum was already pestering him to get married and give her grandchildren.

His smile was infectious and so was mine- especially so was mine. So I squealed and shouted, “Yes!” as I opened the case.

“Yes what?” Vincent asked looking around to see if I had not called too much attention to our table.

Wha-! Earrings! Earrings?

My face grew hot and I’m sure it was red already. It was not even big. It was two tiny gold dots in the case. I looked up from the case and saw that some people were looking at me. I could not help but smile, a very red-hot smile as I faced the comedian before me.

“What is this?” I tried speaking without shouting.

“Earrings my love.”

“What for?”

“You used to complain that you always have to put off your other big ones whenever you are in the house and you wished you had a small one.”

“So?”

Obviously Vincent was a comedian- a very dry one at that. He brought me here of all places, wore a white suit and spent all that money just to give me this thing?

“Where is the ring?” I asked him. There was no point mincing words here.

He frowned now. “What ring?”

“Don’t you play dumb with me young man,” my voice was entering a higher note but I did not care. “Why are you wearing a white suit tonight?”

He looked about again and motioned for me to lower my voice. “I told you I went for an Indian burial today. White is their colour for mourning, unlike our black.”

“So why did you bring me here? In a white suit for that matter, why?”

“Since its been a while we went out together and I know how much you love this place…”

I did not let him finish his jargon tale, “It’s not the place I love to come to after we have not gone out in a while. It’s a place I want to be proposed to. In a white suit!”

Now I was yelling and I really, really did not give a damn.

“I thought you were just describing how much you loved this place. I didn’t know you were serious about it.”

Aaaarghhh!!!!! I wanted to get out of my skin and jump into the cool bottle of wine before me and not come out till I saw a ring- a large diamond ring.

“You decided to bring me here and embarrass me, huh? Do you think I don’t have the money to come here on my own? I just wanted it to be my proposal place.”

Tears were welling up but no, I was not going to cry. No not here. No.

He signed for the waiter to come and settled the bill. The waiter left, sensing the tense atmosphere.

Vincent sighed heavily. “My dear, you are the most ego-filled, unbearable,dictating woman I have ever met.”

Bang! That was in my head. Another one. Bang!

He did not even wait for me to recover. “I have been putting up with you and your bossing attitude, telling myself I needed to be patient more and more. You are so full of yourself dear. Its always about you, what you like, what you don’t.”

He stood up.”Just so you know, I ordered for that earring from Dubai, so you think twice before throwing it away. I’ll be waiting for you in the car.”

I just stared into the air. Was I that bad? Is it a crime to desire some things, like your proposal place and so on?

I wanted to come here and get hooked for life, instead I’m uncertain about my relationship status now. I couldn’t hold back the tears as it streamed down freely.

Clutching my purse and the black case of earring, I stood up and walked to the door, head bowed.

You can reach me via e-mail- dkadex00@gmail.com or on twitter @damilola_olori for suggestions, observations or if you have a story to share. I’ll be expecting.

Do not read!

WARNING: dO nOt ReAd If YoU dO nOt WaNt To Be BoReD!

 

Yes, I said I was going to post some birthday pictures last Saturday (7th) but I didn’t. Please note that it is not because I was lazy, or because of PHCN, or blah blah blah. It is simply because I did not take any on that day. 

And this has led me to write this…

I, Damilola am a total bore! Phew! You don’t know how relieved I am right now to let that out. That said, I can continue. I am probably the most boring person I have ever met in my life. I don’t think I have good friends, for if I do they would have told me so. All I hear them say is how I am a pest and how I make a place come alive. REALLY? ! I do not think so.

Let me tell you a few things about me…

I prefer to snap other people than have a picture of me taken (don’t ask me why).

I (almost) like going out, meaning I do not. Thanks to friends and families who drag me out, ignoring my one million excuses to remain indoor.

(This one is the reason I am not a first class student in school) I like doing things in a rush. I prefer doing things at the dying moments. It has cost me a lot and I would like you to join me in prayers for divine intervention. I really wouldn’t want to arrive at the church on my wedding day when the pictures are been taken after service. As you pray for me, God answer your prayers too. Mwahh!

I am a bore-okay I said that already. If I weren’t, why did I not do anything fun on my birthday? Okay that aside, why did I not at least dress up and take one or two pictures? Instead I was thinking of how I was marking the second birthday in the same level in school (THANKS TO ASUU- TWO BIRTHDAYS IN 500LEVEL). 

It is well indeed.

If you are not convinced enough, then who cuts her hair as often as she will just because she feels like. No one but a boring purzon. You do not understand? Okay o, you see this me of a girl has cut hair like severally in the space of four years when I wore the coat of courage to first do it. If you don’t believe me, ask my friends. They are so tired of me and my hair so much that when I started making it again in the course of this ASUU strike, they were not excited at all. They only hissed at my information and told me things like, “something that you will soon cut”, “abeg that one is not news na”, and so on. But I tried to make them see that this time it was for real. I was not cutting it again. And as if the oldest person in my village was sitting on my matter, I cut it again! It’s been over a month now and it’s growing fast. (ARE YOU THINKING WHAT I’M THINKING?)

I do not intend to bore you as is my custom, but I want to ask you good people what I can do, the things I can use, daily, weekly or monthly, to press the ‘play’ button of my enthusiasm for something (apart from writing). 

Thank you much much.

And I want to use this opportunity to thank every one who reads my ‘boring’ blog, takes time to comment and most especially those that do not comment (God is watching you oooooo). LOL. Your persistence and contribution is my driving force. Thank you.

 If you want to share a story, say something to me in ‘camera'(*wink) or ask any question you can reach me on dkadex00@gmail.com, twitter handle: @damilola_olori (see that I’m boring, my blog name and twitter handle corresponds. Who does that!).

 

I will not say I do not have any picture of myself, so I shall put these ones. It took a while to get pictures where I stood alone, plus I wanted to show one each of cut hair and hair-on-head.

 

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Tale of a fellow 9

Okay it’s not my fault o. If you are a Nigerian then you know whose fault it is- PHCN ni o. But I take part of the blame all the same. Sorry you did not get this yesterday.

Back to Izy…

“Where is our gold?” the man asked.

Izy looked at ‘Uncle’ then back at the man. “I already told Uncle that two…”

He was cut short by a slap on his face from the man.

Izy staggered backwards, more from the suddenness than from the intensity of the slap. His eyes watered but he refused to let the tears flow out, blinking rapidly several times. This was serious trouble for him; how was he to get himself out?

“Wetin you find go the school sef?” The man asked, ready to render him another slap. “Why you touch the gold?”

The tears welled up Izy’s eyes again but he fought it. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have touched it. I just wanted to…”

He was interrupted again, this time by ‘Uncle’.

“Wanted to what? Enh? To see if it was something you could steal?”

Izy did not have an answer to the questions thrown violently at him, even if he did; there was no time to answer as a familiar car horn blared from outside the gate. The two men were taken aback by the sudden, unexpected sound.

Without even checking who it was Izy hastily opened the gate for the car to enter, thanks to whoever it was for saving him. It was his boss-Mr Fred’s car. But there seemed to be something amiss. The driver was not the one driving the car; someone else drove and Mr Fred was not in the car either. The driver was at the back seat, squeezed between two other men, with another one in the passenger seat at the front.

The car was parked close to the gate and the men all came down, forcing the driver out and pushing him towards the ground, telling him to lie down.

One of the men spoke, “I am Lesgo and I am here to borrow a few things. These three gentlemen will be helping me do that and you boys will help us by staying calm. It will help if you just lie down and assume this is a dream. Thank you for your cooperation in advance. Note please that I really do not want to have to use any weapons.”

Izy went straight to the floor. ‘Uncle’ immediately lay down too when he saw two of the four men bring out guns. But the other man-‘Uncle’s partner stood his ground.

Lesgo continued, “You two are quite gentlemen. Thank you. And my good friend here,” he said pointing at ‘Uncle’s partner, “He will be telling us the things he wants to borrow from this place. And no- I repeat, no word from anyone.”

Izy was just so confused by all what was happening. He tried to break it down to himself. Okay, a robbery was going on at the moment. The robbers were obviously educated for Lesgo to have spoken so fluently. But the thing about Uncle’s partner was not clear. Was he a part of them or did they just pick him to help them with the robbery?

‘Uncle’ was face down and shaking his head in disappointment; he had been betrayed by his trusted partner. He should have suspected, especially when he was asking so many questions; how many people were going to be in the house when they went there, what time anyone would get back home and how tight security was. Now he had brought these boys to rob. It had occurred twice between him and his partner to rob Mr Fred, but ‘Uncle’ always said no; families were not to be included in their businesses.

Twenty long minutes later

 

The robbery was over and done with.

The driver was lamenting how he would explain to’ Oga Fred’ about the stolen car; they made way with that too, but left the other two cars in the compound

‘Uncle’ looked so sad and defeated. All he was saying was how he was betrayed.

Izy got to understand what really happened in the cause of the robbery. Yes, ‘Uncle’ was betrayed; his partner set up the robbery. The driver was actually coming home to pick a file for Mr Fred when the four boys who had been waiting outside the gate for the signal saw an opportunity to enter.

The cook was saying repeatedly, “Thank God they didn’t kill us.”

Since the driver was less concerned about anyone or anything else apart from how he would explain himself, he missed the whole story behind ‘Uncle’s betrayal. He did not even care what he was doing in the house at that moment.

So as it seemed, it was only Izy that really knew what went down. To crown it all, it could all still be traced to him, because while the robbers were leaving, ‘Uncle’s partner whispered to Izy’s ear, “You can keep the gold.” If he had not gone to check where the gold was hidden, this would never had happened.

The cook had already called Mr Fred to tell him what happened and the Police had been alerted and were on their way.

Another hour later

No one left the house or went into the rooms that had been robbed. The people in the house practically stayed where they were, except the cook who was going about preparations for food- either lunch or dinner, no one knew. She kept singing songs of praise.

The Police arrived. Everyone knew it was them because of the siren. Izy went to open the gate and two vans drove into the compound. About eight to ten policemen came out of the vans fully clothed and armed. They were quickly ordered to different positions.

Izy saw two of them that he recognised. They were from that prison he spent a year in for allegedly stealing from that woman who was actually the thief. He knew he had to try his best not to be seen by them, else they would suspect him. At least to them he was a thief, so no chance of thinking they might not recognise him. One year is a long time for a face to be registered, most especially when you see the person every day for that one year.

After all the questions were asked and they had roamed the house; kitchen, bathroom, toilet and rooms, taking note of nobody-knew-what, the robbery was so clean; there was no sign of where they had taken anything or what they had taken from inside the house, so Mr Fred, his wife and kids had to get back to know what was missing.

The men who were stationed at different positions were already sitting in the vans. At least the robbers had left since.

Izy ran to open the gate when he heard a knock. It was Mr Fred. One of his company cars brought him home. Izy took the suitcase from him and carefully locked the gate.

The men who were sitting in the van stood up immediately and greeted the owner of the house and friend to their DPO. He greeted them back and asked what the situation was like.

After everything was said and done, the Policemen were set to leave.

“I know this boy na.” One of the officers said.

“I have been looking at him since too.” Another one said

Everyone turned to look at Izy who clutched the suitcase like a thief caught.

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Image culled from Google

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